


beauty in the small things

by thisissirius



Series: the trees of vermont [1]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: M/M, Vermont
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24756628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/pseuds/thisissirius
Summary: I don’t want therapy.I don’t want to self-medicate.I don’t want to be a failure to my son.How, then, is a guy supposed to deal with everything he suffered during war without damaging himself and his family?Yeah, writing wasn’t my first thought either, but here we are.for day two of eddie week; therapy
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: the trees of vermont [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790356
Comments: 41
Kudos: 322
Collections: Eddie Diaz Week 2020





	beauty in the small things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elisela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisela/gifts).



> so this was born from eli's headcanons on tumblr. she comes up with the BEST stories and i just had to write this one. originally this fic was going to be something else and them vermont happened.
> 
> it just makes me want to LIVE in vermont tbh.

_I don’t want therapy._

_I don’t want to self-medicate._

_I don’t want to be a failure to my son._

_How, then, is a guy supposed to deal with everything he suffered during war without damaging himself and his family?_

_Yeah, writing wasn’t my first thought either, but here we are._

“Mom thinks you should stop doing that,” Sophia says. 

Eddie snorts, swirling the drink around in his glass, and gives Sophia a look over the top of it. “I’m not going to drown my sorrows in drink.” He makes a face. “I’m not about to self medicate.”

Sophia knows him better than anybody else in the family. Adriana is his little sister and he adores her, but they don’t have a lot in common. He and Sophia are closer in age, and they were never really their father’s priority in the way Adriana is. “Eddie.”

“I’m not,” Eddie says. He puts the drink on the small table and tips his head back, staring up at the sky. Christopher is playing in the garden with Sophia’s two kids—twins—and giggling. Eddie lets the sounds wash over him and he swallows down the urge to lie. It’s not easy to talk about everything, but Sophia is the one person he can trust with his emotions. “I don’t want to do that kind of thing. I don’t want to—it’s hard, I’m not gonna pretend, but I know guys who have self-medicated and I’m not. For Chris’ sake.”

“And your own.” Sophia’s words are quiet, and she surveys the backyard. “You have to talk to someone.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I don’t see why. There’s nothing wrong with just not dealing with it.”

“So what do you do,” Sophia says, leaning forward in her chair and hitting his knee, “when you’re having a nightmare you can’t wake up from and Chris finds you? What if you have a flashback and Chris is right there? What if—”

“You made your point,” Eddie snaps, rubbing his hands over his face. He doesn’t want to think about it, but he can’t deny those thoughts have run through his own head. Chris needs him to be everything he can be; bad enough that he’s gotta deal with Eddie holding down three jobs while trying to keep their heads above water. 

Chris giggles again, looks back over his shoulder. “Dad! I’m hungry.”

“So are we,” Alexa says. Andre echoes his sister a second later. 

Eddie snorts. “Alright, Chris. Give me a sec, okay?” Giving Sophia another sharp look, he ducks back into the house, blowing out his breath slowly. It’s hard to hear, but civilian life isn’t easy to adjust to. Eddie’s finding it difficult every day, and it doesn’t help that his parents are breathing down his neck, telling him what he should and shouldn’t be doing for Chris. It’s hard not to wonder if they’re right and he should leave Chris with them. Maybe going back overseas— 

No. Eddie’s made a promise to Chris and he’ll never break it. 

When he finally makes it back outside with sandwiches, he runs them by Sophia. 

“Bromundo,” she says, kicking his leg. “I’m not Mom.”

Eddie winces—both at the kick and the nickname—and sticks his tongue out at her. Childish, but it’s so easy to be so around Sophia. “Kids! Food!”

With the kids settled, Eddie relaxes back in his chair. He can feel Sophia watching him and he doesn’t know what to say in return. He rolls his eyes. “What?” 

“You should write about it,” Sophia says. 

Eddie snorts. “What are you talking about?”

Sophia slips her sunglasses up onto her head. Her eyes are bright, worried, and Eddie tries not to let it bother him. He worries about _her_ , so it’s only natural. “Eddie, I don’t want this to get bad, understand? No,” she says, watching his eyes dart back to Chris, and she touches his knee, squeezes. “You, Eddie. I know you’d never let anything happen to Chris if you could help it, but I want you to be okay for _you._ ”

“You didn’t want me to go in the first place.”

“Of course I didn’t. No sister wants her brother to go to war. Even less when they’re the one thing protecting you from a disaster of a home life.”

Eddie snorts. Their childhood wasn’t _that_ bad, especially not with Abuela checking up on them, but he knows what she means. “And you’ve never forgiven me.”

“Nope,” Sophia says, settling back in her chair with a grin.”So I guess you should listen to me.”

Eddie doesn’t make any promises, but later that night, when he comes awake suddenly, tears drying on his face and the phantom memory of sand, death, and the smell of blood, he can’t help but reach for his laptop. His hands are shaking as he opens a document, fingers hovering awkwardly over the keys. 

Everything feels so much and he blows out a breath, thinks of Chris in the next room who deserves so much more, and starts to write. 

_It can crush you, the fear._

_Buries you under tons of pressure, memories, and horror. Sometimes I’m scared I won’t wake up; that I’ll be left in Afghanistan amongst the blood, screams, and echoes of the bombs. I worry that my son will find me trapped in a memory and I’ll scare him. I’m afraid that I’m not the right person to be raising him, that somehow, my worries and fears will drag us both down._

_I’m trying to be the reason he turns out as a good person._

_Facing your fears is the hardest lesson, but a worthwhile one to protect those you care about._

Eddie hates Thanksgiving. 

It’s the worst kind of pressure, having all the family around to remind him of things he’d rather forget. His abuela’s here, though, currently lavishing attention and kisses on Christopher, and his parents have all but avoided him for most of the day. That will change once dinner happens, of course, but he can hold out until then. 

Adriana comes up behind him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Eddie!”

“Hey, Adi,” Eddie says, whirling and hugging Adriana. “How’s college?”

“Exhausting,” Adriana says, with a grin. “But I’m almost done and then I can get out of here,” she says, waving a hand.

Eddie’s never been fair, really, to Adriana. He and Sophia are close, assuming that Adriana loves being the apple of her father’s eye, but it’s easy to see why she hates it. “Nice. Where will you go?”

“New York probably,” Adriana says. She leans against the fence, staring off across the garden to where their parents are laughing with the kids. Eddie feels a rush of anger when they stick close to Chris, but he shoves it down when Adriana nudges him. “Are you sticking around?”

“I don’t really have a choice,” Eddie says. 

“Actually, you might.”

Eddie jumps, and Adriana peers around him as Sophia dances towards them. There’s a nervous expression on her face, but she’s also brimming with happiness. Eddie raises his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“Okay, don’t be mad.”

“I don’t think anybody’s ever heard that and not been mad,” Eddie says carefully. “What did you do?”

“So,” Sophia says, holding out a sheet of paper. When Eddie tries to take it, she snatches it back, holding it out of reach. 

“Sophia—”

Adriana is smaller, slips behind Eddie and takes the paper. “Oh, fuck.”

“Adriana,” Eddie snaps, gesturing at the kids. 

“Eddie,” Adriana says, showing him the paper. 

“Listen,” Sophia says. “I found your book when—” 

Eddie stares at the piece of paper, hands shaking. “This was private!”

“I know,” Sophia says, stepping closer. She looks nervous again, swallowing and holding her arms. “I didn’t mean to find it. I wasn’t even sure you’d listen to me. But I was transferring pictures on your laptop to send to Pepa and I read and it knew it would be amazing, Eddie.”

“I can’t publish it.” Eddie’s staring at the words, though, of someone who wants to do just that. “I didn’t even write a book, not really. It’s just words. How did this even happen?”

Sophia reaches out, touches Eddie’s wrist. “You might not think it was, but Eddie, I couldn’t put it down. I love you, you’re my brother, and I didn’t know half of what was in there. I know it’s an invasion of privacy, but I want this for you; for people to see how brave and intelligent you are.”

Eddie doesn’t feel like either of those things, but he also doesn’t want to be stuck in his head anymore. Hasn’t he done that enough? Doesn’t Chris deserve better? “I don’t know.”

“I think you should do it,” Adriana says, shrugging when both Eddie and Sophie stare at her. “I’m not stupid, Eddie. I know what Mom and Dad wanna do and I know why you don’t want to live here anymore. Isn’t this the way out of that?”

The signing bonus is making Eddie feel a little sick. “I don’t know.”

“It’s your choice.” Sophia leans in, hugs him gently, and Eddie lets it. A beat later, Adriana joins in. When they pull apart, there’s an interesting look on Sophia’s face. “But if you don’t, Christopher will grow up here.”

Eddie knows what she’s trying to do. He’s not angry, not really. It does hurt that she’s done it all behind his back, but when he thinks about it, the chance to move away, to give Chris whatever life he wants, that means more than any hurt he feels. “Alright.”

Adriana and Sophia cheer, drawing the attention of everyone else, but he doesn’t care what they say; there’s a life opening up before him and Christopher free from everything else. 

_Hope is a strange thing._

_I’ve had hope at many points during my life._

_When I thought of my family. When we got my son’s medical diagnosis. When I was shipped out. When I wanted to come home._

_It can give you the courage you need to go forward. There’s a sense of euphoria that comes from your hope being rewarded. There’s also a sense of despair that comes with hope not being enough._

_My son’s mother left. Confirmation of my son’s disorder. Ending up in Afghanistan. Getting shot once, twice, three times._

_Hope is a fickle thing._

_That doesn’t mean that you ever stop feeling it._

Sophia is true to her word;

The book gets published under a pseudonym. Eddie pays off his medical bills. His parents ask where he got the money from, but Adriana and Sophia keep his secret. Chris is happy; Eddie can work less and still be around, he can watch him grow. 

Eddie doesn’t care to watch what happens with the book; it’s embarrassing enough that it’s out there. People are apparently reading it, which he finds out from Sophia and Adriana both. They have a phone chat, constant messages that he wades through every day, and notes the occasional update on his book sales. Apparently it’s a best seller, whatever that means, but Eddie can forget it easy enough. 

Chris takes up a lot of his time. 

Much like Valentine’s Day, which he spends with Christopher’s school class. It’s interrupted by a phone call, and Eddie picks it up, sending an embarrassed look towards the teacher. 

“Hello?”

“Is this Mr. Diaz?”

Eddie frowns, listening to the voice on the other end of the phone, and leans against a wall so that he doesn’t fall over. The words are going in but it’s taking him a while to understand them. The caller is a woman with a kind voice, who seems to understand what he’s feeling. 

“Is that satisfactory?”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course,” she says, sounding amused. “I’ll give you some time to think it over, Mr. Diaz. Give us a call back within three days, or we’ll assume you’re not interested.”

Before she rings off, she gives him the signing bonus, and Eddie thinks he’s about to throw up, has to lean over and breath slowly through his nose. When he recovers enough to go back into the classroom, he knows he’s distracted and that Chris knows. 

“Is everything okay, Dad?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, voice shaky, but there’s happiness welling in his chest so he crouches down, touches Chris’ face. “I think things are about to get even better for us.”

Chris looks excited, even if he doesn’t know what Eddie’s talking about. 

Later, when Chris is in bed, Eddie calls Sophia. 

“I was just about to step into the bath. You have the worst timing, Bromundo.”

“Please stop calling me that,” Eddie says. Then, “I think I just got a movie deal.”

There’s silence from the end of the phone. 

“Sophia?”

“Wait, wait, I’m calling Adriana.” 

Eddie frowns down at his phone, but Adriana joins the call and he snorts, puts the phone back to his ear. 

“I’m studying,” Adriana snaps. “Do you guys know how hard it is—” 

“Eddie got a movie deal,” Sophia says in a rush. Eddie can hear the happiness in her voice, the excitement, and he lets the same bubble up in his chest. He’s been trying to keep it at bay, to ignore it, but now he lets it loose, grinning up at the ceiling in an attempt to control himself. 

Adriana lets out a cheer—which is probably gonna piss off their parents—and Sophia laughs. “Eddie, that’s awesome!”

“I don’t think I really believe it,” Eddie says. “I don’t even know what it means.”

“You didn’t get the paperwork for the option?” Adriana asks. 

“What?”

Adriana sighs, laughing but also sounding annoyed. “Eddie, they have to option a book before they can green light it. If you’re getting the green light, it means that they love your book. Like, a lot.”

Eddie doesn’t understand it; he doesn’t know what happens when a book gets picked up. “It doesn’t even feel like a book that gets a movie.”

“It’s about a war veteran,” Sophia says quietly. “Whatever people think about that, it’s a story that needs to be heard, Eddie.”

“So,” Adriana says, cutting across the silence Sophia’s words leave behind. “How much are you getting.”

When Eddie tells them the cheque they’ll cut him, his sisters scream again, and Eddie feels a tremendous weight lift away from his shoulders. 

_State of change means to change from one state to another without a chemical composition change._

_My chemical composition doesn’t change, but my mind does. My body does. My emotions do. I may look like a breathing, living human, but inside I feel like I’m flying apart in a million different directions. There’s a monster on my shoulder. A voice inside my head. A shadow following me down the street._

_No matter where I turn, there’s something reminding me of what a failure I am; of a son, of a father, of a brother. I have made mistakes that I can’t escape from, but that doesn’t mean I stop trying to be better. I can break out of a cycle I have forced on myself. I can fight the monster on my shoulder. I can silence the voice in my head. I can see the light beyond the shadow._

_It’s a hard fight, and I have a million reminders of the ways I am still failing, but I am strong enough to continue on._

_Change can always be a good thing._

Vermont. 

Freedom and Unity. 

Mountains are green. Or something. 

Eddie hates it. 

There’s a tree in his fucking house. Chris is crying, scared, and Eddie wraps an arm around his shoulders, and tries not to cuss. Holding Chris tight, he carries him out of the room, shushing him gently, and taking him through to the living room. 

“You okay?”

There’s a yell from the front door, and Eddie looks up to see his neighbour Bobby and his wife Athena. “There’s a tree in Christopher’s room.”

Athena immediately comes forward, crouching down in front of Chris, and touching his cheek. “I’ve got Chris, Eddie.”

Eddie nods, reluctant to leave Chris, but lets Bobby lead him towards Christopher’s room. Bobby lets out a low whistle when he sees the damage, and Eddie presses a hand to his face. “He could have been killed.”

“Eddie,” Bobby says immediately, resting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “You can’t think like that, okay? Chris is fine, he’s alive. There’s damage, sure, but—”

“It’s not just that,” Eddie snaps, stepping away from Bobby. “It’s everything. Busted pipes, the outlet that almost set the whole damn kitchen on fire, the fact that I have nobody here. My son loves his school, loves the state, but every time I walk out of the house, I feel like I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life. I don’t know anybody, I miss my sisters, and I just want to not feel like a failure.”

Bobby lets him get it out, just stands in the middle of the room, amongst the debris, and Eddie tries not to imagine it’s him, in the wreckage of his life. “You feel better now?”

Eddie snorts.”Not really.”

With a kind smile, Bobby gestures to the mess. “I’ve got a tarp in the basement. I’ll grab it and we can cover this up.”

Eddie nods, folding his arms across his chest. “Thanks.”

“I’m gonna give you some advice, alright?” 

Not sure he’s going to want to hear it, Eddie nods. “Sure.”

Bobby smiles. “You have friends, Eddie. I think the fact that Athena and I are here is proof of that, no?” Eddie’s got to nod at that. “There are plenty of people in this town, however small, that would like to get to know you. You’ve kept to yourself for a long, long time.”

Eddie admits that is true. “I find it hard to—I can’t make friends easily.”

“It’s not easy,” Bobby says. “But you have people in your corner, Eddie. You just have to want it.”

With another nod, Bobby gives him the out, and leaves the room. Together, they cover Christopher’s room with a tarp, making sure it’s weighted down with bricks and sturdy debris that won’t get dislodged during the storm. Athena gets them a safe place to stay for the night; her friend Hen lives across the street. Eddie recognizes her immediately and almost says no on reflex; she lets her dog pee in his yard every fucking morning and he’s tired of it. Except that she’s got a kind smile, apologizes immediately—”I thought you were an asshole,” she says, sotto voice—and offers up their son’s room for Eddie and Christopher to sleep. 

“We shouldn’t—” Eddie starts. 

“Trust me, you don’t wanna be outside in this,” she says, waving a hand. “Besides, I can call my contractor in the morning and get you some help.”

Eddie agrees because Bobby is right; he could do with some friends. 

_Loneliness is a difficult feeling._

_I used to think I had everything. Family, friends, a job I loved. That’s before war; my friends couldn’t put up with me flaking because of my PTSD. My family couldn’t handle the memories I couldn’t share. My job was responsible for everything falling apart._

_Suddenly, I was lonelier than I had ever been._

_Covering those feelings isn’t easy. People are watching; when they think you have_ problems, _they always do. Even if those problems are certified, medical, and something nobody would want given the chance._

_Friends are something I can’t afford._

_Or is that just something I tell myself?_

Evan Buckley is— 

Evan Buckley looks— 

Well, fuck. 

“Hey.” The guy standing on Eddie’s doorstep has muscles on top of muscles. He’s dressed in shorts, a tank, and a flannel shirt. He’s wearing boots that are scuffed and dirty, and his toolbag is slung over one shoulder. He grins, smile lighting up his face and fuck, it’s been a long time since Eddie’s felt the gut punch of attraction. “I’m Evan Buckley.”

“Diaz,” Eddie says, internally wincing. “Uh, Edmundo—Eddie, Eddie Diaz.”

Evan’s smile widens. “So—Which one of those should I call you?”

“His name’s Eddie,” Chris says, coming up behind Eddie. “And I’m Christopher.”

If Eddie thought Evan’s smile had been brilliant before, it’s so much more as soon as he lays eyes on Chris. “Hello, Chris,” Evan says, bending down. “Those are some cool crutches, buddy. You like Nemo too?”

Chris’ crutches had been one of Eddie’s superfluous purchases; specially made with Nemo decals and themes. Chris adores them, and Eddie’s proud of himself for that one choice. Chris grins. “Dad got them for me!”

“Did he?” Evan says, looking back up at Eddie. “He sounds cool.”

“He is,” Chris affirms, and Eddie’s chest flutters. “Do you like being called Evan?”

Evan winces. “Actually, how about you just call me Buck?”

“Okay, Buck,” Chris says easily. “Are you here to fix my room?”

Eddie clears his throat. “Sorry.”

Evan—Buck frowns. “Don’t be. Nothing’s wrong.” To Chris, he winks. “You bet I am. Wanna show me?”

Buck seems content to walk at Christopher’s pace, following them through to Christopher’s bedroom. He stares at the ceiling, eyebrows raised, then back to Chris. “He was in here?”

Eddie nods, not wanting to think about it. He looks away for a moment. 

“Can you fix it, Mr. Buck?”

“I’ll try,” Buck says, then leans down and pretends to give him a conspiratorial look. “Can your dad not do it?”

Chris giggles. “Dad’s okay with some things, but abuela says to never let Dad have a hammer.”

“Hey,” Eddie says. 

Though he tries to keep his tone light because he knows Chris is just joking, it hurts that his mother is talking about him like that. There’s something knowing in Buck’s look, but he covers it quickly. “I better take a look outside first. Then I’ll do all the hammer work, buddy.”

As they work, Eddie tries to keep Chris out of the way, but it’s a lost cause; Chris is following him around, asking questions at a mile a minute, and while Eddie’s expecting it to bother him, Buck doesn’t seem to be annoyed. He answers every question, seems enthusiastic with his replies, not that Eddie can tell what those questions are. 

Buck is—well, Eddie can’t stop watching. 

Whether it’s the way he flexes his muscles, the smile on his face, or the stretch of skin between shorts and shirt that gets exposed when he stretches. Eddie’s doing his best to not have an emotional breakdown. When Christopher is busy with lunch, insisting on eating it outside so he can see Buck work, Eddie hovers nearby, leaning against the entrance to the doorway so that he can see both Buck and Chris. 

“Thanks for doing this.”

Buck gives him a quick glance, flashes a smile. “No problem.”

Eddie searches for a subject, latches on to the first one he can think of. “What’s that tattoo of?”

Buck’s got a lot of tattoos and he grins, gesturing at himself. “Which one?”

“The one over your heart,” Eddie says. “I can’t read it.”

“Want me to come closer?” Buck’s expression is guarded, but there’s a look in his eyes Eddie hasn’t seen in a long time. 

“Um,” Eddie starts. “I don’t think—”

“It’s a quote,” Buck says, turning back to the roof. He shifts along on his knees, working on the next beam. “From my favourite book.”

There’s a pause. “Well?”

“You’ll find out one day,” Buck says. 

Eddie tries not to hear it like a promise. 

_I missed you all the time._

_Those are the words I focus on more than I like to. They’re words my son said to me when I first came home from Afghanistan. Knowing that I would have to do so again, that I needed the medical coverage from the Army was heartbreaking. I didn’t want my son to miss me. I didn’t want to be the kind of father who would leave._

_Leave I did. Because I thought I was doing the right thing._

_Sometimes, the logical choice isn’t always the right choice._

_I am here now. For my son and with a ton of baggage I wish I could shed. My son doesn’t seem damaged by what I have done and every day, I’m grateful. I know I am not the only person who has raised my son, but sometimes it’s hard not to be proud of everything he is; that kindness I have yet to find in somebody else._

“Want me to check out the rest of the house?”

Eddie’s a little offended that Buck looks at his house and thinks it needs _more_ help, but given the way he yelled at Bobby and started this whole thing off, he supposed it’s right. He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I thought this would be a good buy.”

“It still can be,” Buck says kindly. “A lot of houses in town were like this. Though if it’s the money—” 

“Not a problem,” Eddie says easily, then thinks about how that might sound. “I mean, it’s not—” 

Buck smiles gently. “You bought this house, Eddie. However much help it needs, it’s _nice_. Big. I assume you have some money. Or is that too forward? Chim’s always saying I talk too fast and don’t think first.” 

Eddie laughs, feels his nervousness slip away in the face of Buck’s own. “It’s okay, Buck. I’m still figuring out this friend thing.”

They lapse into silence. Chris is at school so he’s not there to break the silence, and Eddie doesn’t know how to fill them himself. He’s still figuring out how to be a person comfortable in his own skin. Maybe he should re-read his own book. Apparently it helps people and besides, the movie’s supposed to hit theatres soon. 

It takes the better part of the late morning for Buck to go around the whole house, marking down on paper what needs fixing. It’s a long list and Eddie’s stomach drops with each new thing. “That much?”

At least Buck’s expression is apologetic. He softens it with a smile. “I can fix them all though!” 

“Great.” Eddie can at least count on Buck being around a little bit longer, even if it’s only a few days. 

“Although,” Buck starts. His face falls along with Eddie’s happiness. “I’ve got classes and other jobs lined up that I can’t just—it’ll take me a few weeks to get it done.”

Buck keeps talking but Eddie’s not really paying attention. He’s thinking about _weeks_ and having Buck around—okay, so he’s mostly thinking about the fact that Buck’s gonna be mostly shirtless in his house for even longer. 

“I could always see if Chim can find someone else,” he starts. 

“No,” Eddie snaps quickly. At Buck’s surprised look, then hurt expression, he takes a step forward. “I mean, Chris is pretty shy. I don’t want—someone else would be a pain. You could—you could stick around.” 

Buck’s smile is brilliant. 

_Love._

_Love isn’t something I see for myself._

_Attraction. I’ve had that. Comfort. That’s been there. My son’s mother was a beautiful person, a good soul, but she just couldn’t be a mother. I respect her choices, loved her for them, but I am not sure if I loved_ her _. I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone in such a visceral way that isn’t my son._

_Someone who will care for me, will look at my fears, my experiences, and not see someone who needs to be fixed._

_But see somebody, broken, put back together, but worthy of a love that consumes us both._

_A few choice words could be the life raft you need to come home._

_To be seen. To be found. Isn’t that what we’re all searching for?_

Buck presses Eddie down onto the couch. 

Eddie traces his fingers over the curve of Buck’s ribs, follows the cursive with his hand. “This quote. I know it. Where’s it from?”

“My favourite book,” Buck says, leaning down to kiss Eddie’s jaw, moves slowly across to his lips. The kiss is lazy, wonderful, and Eddie’s hands drift down to Buck’s waist, holds him in place. It’s comfortable in a way he’s never expected he could be, and Eddie closes his eyes, hums gently. “It’s called _Tango Uniform.”_

Eddie freezes. “What?”

Buck rocks back a little, straddling Eddie’s hips. He looks pleased, pink blushing over his cheeks. His fingers rest against Eddie’s chest. “Have you heard of it? It’s by this virtually unknown author and he’s so good, Eddie. His writing is perfect.” Buck ducks his head. “Not that you want me to talk about that.”

Eddie opens his mouth, closes it. He’s not sure he knows what words to find, but then Buck’s ducking back in, kissing whatever he would say right out of his head. 

_Everyone deals with trauma differently._

_I hear that so often, so many different ways._

_I’ve always felt as if my trauma didn’t matter. My son has a whole future ahead of him that’s going to be difficult. People I knew, friends, died in Afghanistan; their families had a future of nothingness. People out there have suffered the unimaginable, and I have dreams sometimes, can’t stop myself having episodes of memories._

_Trauma never felt like the right word, but maybe that’s because I don’t believe myself worthy of having trauma._

_Believing that I am is the first step to becoming the person I want to be._

“Are you kidding?” 

“Shut up,” Eddie groans, resting his forehead on his arms. “I couldn’t even _tell him_.”

Sophia cackles. “I can’t believe this is happening. I love it.”

Eddie narrows his eyes at her, but it doesn’t help. “He took his shirt off.”

This time, Sophia’s laugh is almost hysterical. “Oh my gosh, I can’t wait to tell Adriana about this.”

“Nope,” Eddie says, holding up a hand. “You can’t tell anyone else!”

Sophia shrugs easily, leaning on the table in front of her. Her kitchen looks immaculate, and Eddie knows he caught her mid-clean, but he’s not sorry, he needed someone to talk to. “I love you so much. Though, honestly, I have half a mind to come up there and knock some sense into you.”

Eddie snorts. “No, don’t do that. I’m absolutely certain I would never survive you and Buck meeting.”

“I like the sound of him.” Sophia sounds gentle, and her smile is warm. “You look happy.”

“This whole book thing,” Eddie starts. He struggles for the words, finds them. “It’s made me happy. I have you to thank for that.”

Sophia looks embarrassed, but she smiles brightly. “You did the work, Eddie. You wrote everything, you put those feelings onto the laptop. I just spurred you into action.”

It’s true, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t grateful. “Thanks, Sophia.”

“You’re welcome, Bromundo.”

“What did I _say_ about that!”

_Someone once told me; your punishment is that you lived. Now make it worth a damn._

_Everyday, I try._

The next time Buck comes over, this time to finally fix the sparking outlet in the kitchen, Chris is sitting at the table. He’s doing his homework but spending most of the time trying to talk to Buck. 

“Work,” Eddie warns. “Otherwise I’ll send Buck home.”

Not that he could; Buck’s only got so many spare nights and Eddie knows it. It gets Chris moving, though, focusing back on his homework. Buck snorts, working against the counter, and Eddie looks at him, admires the curve of his shoulders, the length of his body. It’s hard not to stare, to remember the way he’d felt pressed against Eddie’s hips, the way he’d fucked into him, curling hands around Eddie’s neck and whispering sweet nothings in his ear. 

“Eddie?”

Eddie looks up. “Sorry, what?”

Buck laughs gently. “I was saying, I think I’m done.”

“You alright here for a second, Chris? There’s something I wanna show Buck.”

“Okay, Dad. As long as we get pizza for dinner.”

Eddie pauses, narrowing his eyes. He knows it’s bribery, but he doesn’t care. “Alright, fine. Pizza.”

Chris goes back to his homework, pleased, and Buck raises his eyebrows. Whatever, Buck doesn’t know anything. As they walk through to the bedrooms, Eddie thinks about how things have changed; Buck’s clothes are in his closet; there’s a toothbrush in the bathroom that doesn’t belong to Chris or Eddie; there’s textbooks and movies and items Buck’s brought over that are still there. Buck’s in every area of Eddie’s life, and Eddie doesn’t want anything to change. He’s worried it will, though. 

“I have to tell you something,” he says, turning to face Buck head on. “It’s not bad, or I don’t think it is, but it’s a lie.”

Buck raises his eyebrows, face expressionless. 

“It’s—that book?”

“Tango Uniform?” Buck frowns, then something clears. “Have you read it?”

Eddie opens his mouth, closes it. “I wrote it.”

Buck laughs. 

Eddie feels his stomach drop. “Someone once told me; your punishment is that you lived. Now make it worth a damn.”

“Everyday I try,” Buck finishes. “Eddie.”

Eddie looks down at the floor, unsurprised when Buck rushes out of the room, and he swallows down the urge to cry. He can’t, he won’t allow himself. All he can think about is having to tell Christopher why Buck’s gone and he can’t bear it— 

“Listen,” Buck says, and Eddie’s head snaps up. “This,” he says, shoving a dogeared book at Eddie, “is my favourite part.”

The book is his, Eddie realizes. His hands are shaking as he takes it. The shape of the book; Buck’s obviously read it a lot. There are pages turned over, things bookmarked with pieces of paper and highlighter, and he feels something burst in his chest. “Buck.”

Buck’s hand is on his chin, and Eddie lifts his head at Buck’s prompting. There’s an expression on Buck’s face he can’t understand. “This book? It’s the reason I’m here, Eddie.”

“In my house?”

Lips quirked up, Buck shakes his head. “Vermont. Here, wherever I wanted to be. It gave me the courage to be the person I thought I couldn’t be. I’ve read it so many times. I fell in love with every word before I even really knew who you were.”

“You love—”

“You,” Buck finishes. 

Eddie doesn’t know what to say. 

“It’s okay if you can’t—”

“I love you too,” Eddie says. “Buck, I _love_ you.” 

When Buck kisses him, Eddie knows that every moment that’s come before is nothing to this; the future he, Chris and Buck have stretching out before them. 

_For Buck; I am seen. I am found._

**Author's Note:**

> check me out on tumblr. scream at me if you want to :D


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